


The Ones You Don't Plan

by RisuAlto



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bora is a dick, F/M, Fear of Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Lucy's dad is a bigger dick, Regarding Kissing, not between the main pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 11:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21475351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisuAlto/pseuds/RisuAlto
Summary: Based onthisold post and written fornatsu-dorkneel, who vaguely requested something along these lines in the tags.Cross-posted from FF.net under the same name.
Relationships: Gray Fullbuster/Juvia Lockser, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Natsu Dragneel/Lucy Heartfilia
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	The Ones You Don't Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](https://natsu-dorkneel.tumblr.com/post/126555584304/phantompierce-okamoto) old post and written for [natsu-dorkneel](https://natsu-dorkneel.tumblr.com), who vaguely requested something along these lines in the tags.
> 
> Cross-posted from FF.net under the same name.

“Miss? Are you ready to order?” The white-haired woman standing beside her table was honestly one of the prettiest, sweetest women that Lucy has ever seen. Frankly, she wondered if this waitress could be a model of some sort when she wasn’t serving tables in this little café just north of the river. But, for all the sweetness and patience in the woman’s (her nametag said Mirajane) voice, Lucy couldn’t help but wish that she would go away, and please stop asking to take her order.

“No, not yet, thanks,” Lucy replied, glancing towards the door. The sun was setting, golden twilight clouds melting into a somber purple dusk, and very few new customers were entering now.

“Still waiting on someone?” With Mirajane’s voice breaking her thoughts, Lucy realized her almost-subtle glance had turned into a wistful stare, one that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the waitress.

“Yeah…” Lucy kept her eyes on the table this time when she spoke, but if she’d looked up, the young blonde would have seen a sad, sympathetic smile on Mirajane’s face before she spoke up again.

“Well, you just wave me over when you’re ready, alright?” she asked gently, and Lucy nodded absently as a response.

Reaching to the floor, Lucy lifted her phone from the purse that sat there. With a heartbroken sigh, she read the time. 

_You asked me to be here twenty-six minutes ago,_ she thought. _At least text if you’re running late._

But a bigger part of her mind threatened something worse than lateness: _He’s never going to show up._

At first, Lucy forced that idea far into the corners of her thoughts and tried to come up with reasons that her supposed boyfriend could be late. But as time dragged on, and thirty minutes became forty-five, which slid to an hour, which blurred into ninety whole minutes, Lucy knew he wasn’t late. She was just being stood up.

The realization burned like tears when she admitted it to herself. Her eyes stung, her cheeks flushed, her breathing became heavy and she tried to hide it all by sipping the water that Mirajane had brought over some time before, but that was pretty much futile. 

Still, she managed to stop real tears from falling. _What if he shows up now?_ she asked herself. _Do you want to seem that desperate?_

And it was the naïve hope that maybe five more minutes would make a difference that kept Lucy from standing up and walking out right then.

Honestly, though, it was getting hard to breathe. Every time she looked up, Lucy could swear she found a new set of eyes on her, glancing furtively in her direction, filled to the brim with pity and wonder, but not the good kind of wonder like, _Oh, she’s pretty_, or something, the kind like, _I wonder if she’s being stood up._ Yeah, it seemed like they all knew. Every single one of them just somehow was aware of her situation and that just made it worse.

Lucy heard the bell on the door ring again, but this time, she didn’t dare look up. If she saw one more face that wasn’t Bora’s, she’d probably just break right there into a thousand pieces.

Lucy didn’t think she had ever felt worse in her life. Her mind had gone from asking, _Why isn’t he here? Is he okay?_ to asking, _What’s wrong with me? What did I do wrong?_ and that was quickly spiraling out of control into a void of self-doubt and scarring memories.

She really thought Bora was different when they met. He was romantic, suave, and payed attention to everything she did. Being with him was nothing like being at home, where her father went out of his way to make sure she was isolated. Even when Lucy had told Bora that she ran away from home, he stayed by her, made sure she had what she needed.

But recently things had changed. Ever since Lucy pushed Bora away after he tried to take kissing a little further, it seemed like a wedge stuck itself between them and—

_Oh god_, Lucy thought. Suddenly this whole situation made sense; Bora was throwing her away for someone else, someone more willing and (probably) much more… experienced. An image of her blue-haired boyfriend with his arm draped around a faceless, scantily-dressed and busty girl entered her mind briefly, and though Lucy felt nauseous, it wasn’t because she thought the picture was impossible.

A few words of her father echoed blankly: _“Being a wife is easy, Lucy. Just serve your husband while he does the real work, and make sure you birth suitable heirs.”_

Lucy hadn’t realized she was trembling until her arms wrapped around herself, trying to hold in everything at once. She couldn’t stop thinking that maybe her father was right, maybe Bora was right, maybe she was useless, maybe she didn’t deserve love…

Before she could have a breakdown in the middle of a café under the eyes of dozens, Lucy braced her hands on the table and was two seconds away from standing up and running home in tears when a voice sounded from across the table.

“Sorry I’m so late, babe; traffic is absolutely crazy right now.” 

When Lucy looked up, she had two thoughts.

One: _Holy shit, his hair is pink._

Two: _Who the hell is this guy?_

But neither of these things were voiced because the stranger was pulling out the chair across from her, sitting down and whispering quietly, “I’m Natsu. Just go along with it, yeah? Whoever didn’t bother to show up is a douche.”

Lucy’s mind was reeling, surprise and flattery and gratefulness tempering her previous despair, and out of that gratefulness came the drive to just do as this stranger (Natsu) said, and go along with it. “You idiot,” she said, loud enough to be heard a few tables away. “You scared me.”

The pink-haired boy rubbed the back of his neck (which Lucy couldn’t help but think was incredibly cute) as he repeated his fake apology, sounding so sincere that Lucy started to feel better, started to believe the illusion that this strange new person really did care for her and felt guilty over a non-existent accident on the Magnolia Parkway.

Suddenly, Natsu seemed to spot something over Lucy’s shoulder, and she wondered with sudden panic if he had actually been coming here to meet someone too and had found them. She didn’t want this company, and the fantastical(ly cute) illusion that came with it to leave so soon.

But Natsu opened his mouth to call out to the person, and half-shouted, “Hey Mira! Could you bring us…” and Lucy stopped actually listening after that because some sort of relief flooded her senses. She wasn’t going to be left alone again.

“Hey.” Lucy felt a hand on her arm and looked up. Forest green eyes were closer to her face than she remembered and the blonde started a little.

“W-what?”

“You okay?” Natsu questioned, and Lucy guessed she must have spaced out on him.

She nodded, not sure what to really say. Remembering how Natsu immediately called out to her waitress, she asked, “So you come here often?”

Natsu cocked his head of pink hair just to one side and blinked. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“You seemed really friendly with the waitress is all,” Lucy said, thinking how childish he looked with his head turned and eyes wide. It was kind of endearing.

Said slightly-childish-but-actually-pretty-thoughtful boy proceeded to shrug and was about to say something else when the pretty waitress with white hair (intimately known as Mira, apparently) returned with two drinks in hand, placing them on the table with a smile and a quick, “I’ll be back in a second to get your orders.”

Lucy, meanwhile, examined the drink carefully. It was a floofy beverage she’d never seen before, and smelled distinctly fruity. Within the tall glass, hues of lemony amber and cherry cerise mixed together like the sunset clouds that had faded about an hour ago. But the color progression reminded Lucy of something else, too.

“It looks like fire,” she said, glancing up. Natsu was already drinking his, a content smile on his face as she commented.

“Tastes like it too,” he added, taking another sip.

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “How can a drink taste like fire?” she questioned. “And how do you even know what fire tastes like?”

“Just try it!” Natsu insisted. When she looked at him skeptically, Natsu narrowed his eyes. “I dare you. If you hate it, I’ll buy you something else.”

So, not wanting to seem snobbish, Lucy reached out for the glass (which was actually just barely warm), and guided the drink’s straw to her mouth, eyes never leaving Natsu’s face as she took one gulp. 

Lucy was sure her eyes went wide at the moment she first tasted the drink. She had been right, it was fruity, but Natsu was also correct because the flavor of smoke, warm and earthy, danced across her tongue. Lucy pulled back from the straw in surprise.

“It’s good,” she said, mildly awed. “How do they make it?”

Natsu grinned. “I dunno,” he said happily. “You can ask Mira, I guess.”

Suddenly, Lucy was struck by a thought. Despite all that this stranger had done for her, from pulling her night back from angst to showing her a new drink, the young woman had yet to even tell him her name. And even though he seemed (oddly) perfectly okay with that, Lucy felt it was the least she could do to start thanking him.

“I’m Lucy, by the way,” she said, taking another drink.

“I’m Natsu,” the boy responded, and Lucy laughed.

“I know; you told me before.”

This time, he frowned a little bit. “Well I didn’t want you to forget,” he pouted. Lucy took a moment and just stared at him, taking in his playful viridian eyes, his sharp nose, and absolutely impossible spiky rose hair. He was cute, she thought, in about a dozen ways. In fact, cute didn’t even seem to cover it. 

Natsu Considerate-But-No-Last-Name was probably the sweetest person Lucy had ever met.

And she didn’t have any response to him except, “I don’t think I could.”

* * *

Lucy was laughing whole-heartedly as she walked through the parking lot to find her car. Natsu was still with her, recounting some tale about one of his friends as they went. He had previously covered both of their meals, despite Lucy wanting to split the check, because Mirajane conveniently couldn’t figure out how to make the register do that (despite the fact that Natsu claimed she’d worked there forever). Lucy was sure the woman had done something on purpose.

But that was less important right now, because she had only one incredulous response to Natsu’s story: “So there’s seriously a woman who waits outside every single day with presents for a guy who can’t keep his clothes on in front of the most important CEO in the city?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Natsu said, like it was the most normal thing.

It only took a few seconds for Lucy to stop giggling madly at the image, but it felt like much longer and she wished the time would stretch a little more, because now she was resting a hand on the door of her car and thinking that in about five seconds, Natsu (she learned his last name was Dragneel) would walk away and she’d probably never see him again. 

“This you?” he asked, gesturing to the car.

Lucy nodded her head. “Yeah,” she said slowly.

She counted the seconds of silence, both of them really unsure what to do next, before looking deep into Natsu’s eyes and sincerely saying, “Thank you for tonight. You have no idea what it meant to me.”

And Natsu dropped one more surprise on her by immediately asking, “Could we do this again, then?” Lucy froze up as he continued. “Like maybe tomorrow, around the same time? That’s when I get off work, so…”

The young man seemed to sense something was wrong, because he trailed off, scanning Lucy’s face carefully as it fell, insecurity rising back to the surface. She couldn’t meet his eyes…

Until Natsu boxed her in loosely between his arms, chest, and her car. “Hey,” he said, “I really don’t know who you were supposed to meet tonight, but if I did, I’d wanna tell him two things. One, I’d say thanks, for letting me meet someone really awesome. And two, I’d tell him to get his head out of his ass, because he’s a total douche for standing you up. And then I would tell _you_ that I totally want to have dinner again because I think you’re cool.”

Lucy felt a deep, warm, choking emotion rise in her chest. Some of it trickled higher, painting her cheeks with warmth and (she assumed) pink, but the blonde hoped it would be invisible in the dark. Either way, Natsu’s words send waves of a foreign kind of happiness through her chest and she smiled very slowly.

“Then,” she declared, “yes. I’d love to do this again.”

Natsu backed away a little bit, grinning. “Eight tomorrow?”

Lucy nodded, calling, “Don’t be late!” as he walked backward towards where Lucy guessed his own car was parked.

“I won’t be! I promise!”

And when Lucy walked into the café the next night at seven fifty-five, Natsu was already there waiting. He wasn’t late that night.

Or, for that matter, on any night afterwards.


End file.
